


Breathing Life

by Lousy



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Camping, Family Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:13:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28644264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lousy/pseuds/Lousy
Summary: "They sat on a camping chair; the fabric taut to accommodate the already massive askings of his god father then budging out more than it would for any purpose other than to let Tavros to be tucked beside him."No plot, only Tavros camping with his dad.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Breathing Life

The records said it was cold that night— three pairs of socks cold— but Tavros didn’t remember it that way.

He was warm— drowsing on the lawn in summer warm— as crickets and cicadas called to one another, drowned occasionally by the speaking of a toad or the somber titter of an owl. Stars twinkled above. They winked and flickered, more than he’d ever seen at home so close to the city. Stars he could have never imagined danced above the creaking, shifting canopy to put on a show for Tavros and the man who hung them.

They sat on a camping chair; the fabric taut to accommodate the already massive askings of his god father then budging out more than it would for any purpose other than to let Tavros to be tucked beside him. His dad’s arm, radiating and corded, cinched around Tavros’s waist to keep him close. Tavros’s head was pillowed on his chest. The man’s slow, deep, deliberate breaths lifted and lowered and lifted and lowered his head. The rest of Tavros’s body was molded to his side so every bit of warmth the man held was shared. Tavros kept one arm in his dad’s lap, the other in his own.

Although they were one as a bite of scrambled eggs is one, the fleece blanket wrapped them that much closer as would a warmed flour tortilla, its surface dotted with the brown that told you this was something real and imperfect, ripping when stretched but rolling into itself beautifully. The blanket tucked under Tavros’s legs which were pulled into the chair so his knees rested on his dad’s thigh.

Toasting Tavros’s face was a crackling fire. It shouldn’t have caught as readily as it had, rubbing sticks as if they were a viola and its bow simply didn’t work, but the rules stretched for a god teaching his son. When the first stick caught, its light pooled on his face, hiding behind stubble and giggling in eyes decorated with smile lines as he turned to Tavros and handed him the source. Tavros reverently set it on the pile of leaves that no longer tried to escape when large, calloused hands guided small, soft ones to cup around the feeble glow and nurture it into a flame. He puffed; no spit, no strain, no hollowed cheeks nor red face, although he had no mustache to flutter when he breathed life into discarded boughs.

Tavros curled into the chair and watched sticks cover the light before becoming a part of it. A deep breath, the kind one takes after hours of communal stench in the first minute after ripping that away for something pure, was cool air steeped in the dark, infused with a lazy whorl of wood smoke.

An owl called far in the woods.

The potato, wrapped in foil for itself and wrapped in a dishtowel for him, split under his teeth, the skin jumping apart with a sizzle to show pillowy stuffing. An overeager bite left him with his mouth wide to the thick, twinkling sky, greeting it first with his tongue. Beside him, his dad did the same and surely felt the warmth slide down his throat and the steam fill up and spill over. Together, they opened their mouths again to share the heat with the night and laugh. The same mistake was not made with vegetables charred on their edges but giving at their centers, that tasted of little but comfort.

Supper finished, implements to be cleaned at a time less sacred, Tavros let a fire turn to an ember behind eyelids and let his head rest and rise and fall.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing, editing, and posting this in one night was non-optional, I would've nitpicked it to hell otherwise and the world needs more of Jake being a dad.


End file.
